


Burnt Tongues

by sweetsheetsweat



Series: Burnt Tongues [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, JJ Project - Freeform, Jealousy, M/M, POV First Person, Porn with Feelings, Stubborn!Jaebum, Unhealthy Relationships, jaebum is secretly gentle, jinyoung is a tease, studious!jinyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-16 23:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10581819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsheetsweat/pseuds/sweetsheetsweat
Summary: Jaebum is so hot and cold that you swear you walk around with a tongue that’s constantly being burned.





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was started a healthy amount of time ago, so it's set around the If You Do era (but it doesn't really matter). Written from Jinyoung's point of view and centered around his relationship with Jaebum. Also, I'm 100% certain that Jaebum's a lot nicer than this.

“Come on,” he says impatiently, eyebrows raised above eyes that are both irritated and exhausted. He gives you a quick peck but dodges anything that deepens the affection. You sigh and trudge along behind him. “We’re already late,” he grumbles. 

“It’s a restaurant, and it’s not like we have a reservation. Just relax.” You catch up to walk beside him and you watch as his eyes meet yours. His gaze is heated, but for all of the wrong reasons.

He walks like you’re his shadow and you’re not sure why you came at all. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, but regret fills your mind every time he sees you and sneers. You wonder how many more days you can stand his shallow kisses and intense moods swings. He gets stressed and throws shards of it on you, like he’s careless and unashamed. 

“This place is supposed to be good.” It sounds like he’s confirming his thoughts. “I’m starving.”

“When are you not?” You pull your jacket around yourself and notice that he’s got his tied around his waist. His body’s probably burning up with energy that needs to be kneaded out.

He barks out a laugh and slows down as he rounds a corner. “True.”

You’ve never been on a proper date with him but you’ve known him for years and it’s not like you need introductions. You slipped into it at some point, when you banded together and took comfort in each other’s words first, and then moved onto each other’s bodies.

It’s not anything that’s labeled or shared with anyone. Neither of you care to define it but it’s a good thrill when you know he’s always in your periphery because he still wants to stick around. You’re aware of his disposition and you could have distanced yourself when he would explode beside you, so different from your own buried emotions. 

You saw his loneliness and fierce drive and it wasn’t long until you worked to understand him. You don’t feel lonely as often as he does, but you don’t live on such solid ground and he brings that to you. He doesn’t let you slip into melancholy. 

“This place is huge,” he says. He looks relieved, and it’s because you have to be careful of where you step and how you’re seen. It’s another type of pressure that presses both of you down. “I’m paying.” He places everything in his pockets onto the table and flops down in his seat, looking around. His cheekbones are sharp and you watch him as he stares elsewhere.

“How romantic,” you say. He’s going to take the bait.

He shrugs easily, already pointing at the menu. “I like food and I like you. Both together sounds good to me.” He smirks. “Is that better?”

“That’s fine for now.” The expression on your face is sour. You’re not sure it’ll be enough in the future.

The waiter comes around and takes your orders. The waiter can barely speak before Jaebum rattles off a slew of dishes without another thought. When he has favorites, he really likes them. For everything else, he's not picky and as usual, he’s intent on eating as much as he can. You’re more conservative, but you never hesitate to take it out on him by making the bill just a little bit bigger.

“It was nice to be able to walk around." He sighs and looks out onto the street, and it's the kind of day where the breeze is cool and fresh. "I was thinking we could spend the rest of the day hanging out but our schedules are too busy tomorrow." He clucks his tongue and rubs at the wood in front of him. 

His coldness is melting and you melt with it.

"It's important to appreciate the little things." You finally lean into your chair and you extend your legs, knocking your knees together. He has a small smile on his face and you return it, cheeks dimpling.

"You taught me that," he says, leaning onto his elbows. There are times when he just looks at you, and it's different from the other ways. It's as if he considers you for a moment, looking at you like you're foreign to him, and he's assessing who you are. He looks at other people constantly, whether shooting suspicious glances or quirking an eyebrow sarcastically. 

With you, there's this certain distance where he doesn't feel like he has to bridge. It seems like he's waiting for you to meet him in the middle. You don't know because he's never told you.

The food comes soon enough, and he tucks in quickly, mouth wide open and obscene. You used to grit your teeth at it, thinking it was indecent to see someone else's tonsils but you've been exposed to his mouth in so many ways that it's just another thing he does. He has to keep pushing his hair out of his eyes since there's a new concept and he's got his sides shaved and the rest of his hair much longer. It suits him well, and it's a far cry from the shocking blond that he had a few years ago.

"This food is ridiculous," he says, mouth full and stuffed. "It's delicious." He shoves a spoon into his bibimbap and brings it to your lips, expectant. You're not sure if you should roll your eyes or not but you take it anyway and lick your lips. He smiles at that, eyes small, and keeps eating. He's got his chopsticks in his right hand and a skewer of meat in his left.

"I fed you. Isn't that romantic?" He looks up at you and waits for your reply. He's teasing, if not mocking. 

"I'll bump up your score," you say. "Keep going." You're using your strict voice and you're always surprised by how humble he gets when you decide to put him in line. It's another thrill.

He doesn't say anything but keeps feeding you and when his plates start emptying, he moves onto yours. You're amused, and both of you start laughing and his thighs move closer to yours.  
You start talking about the last show you were on and the obnoxious games you have to play. He comments about how others think you're too serious, but you protest and mention kissing games and competitions that end up with popsicles as prizes. You compete with the rest of them, but try to embarrass yourself less. He's chuckling and his eyes disappear into thin lines.

"That was fun," he says. When you're done the meal and walking out, he even holds the door for you, grinning. 

"Keep going," you tell him. He walks beside you this time.

 

...

 

He’s burning with anger and you never used to know why he would always stomp into your room and take up all of the space with his cutting glares and sharp-edged words. 

“They never fucking listen to me!”

You’ve since realized that he needs you, but he can’t admit that he has flaws that reach the core of him. He trusts you and he knows that his temper recedes once he’s done yelling and you’re still listening. He knows you’re always there for him.

“I can’t fucking believe those brats—just useless, like we don’t practice for hours and hours. What’s the point? Fuck!”

He’s spinning around in your room and you watch him patiently, but you've built high walls that you protect yourself with. He used to come in and throw shit around and walk out like he was a hurricane and you were just the place that was hit the worst.

“I try to tell them, 'prepare for every performance and improve on your mistakes,' but they’re so easygoing that it makes me look foolish. It’s like I’m just talking to myself while they’re playing around.”

He moves to sit beside you on your bed and rubs at his eyes with clenched fists. He used to punch them into walls and threaten everyone with the sound of skin and bones colliding with concrete.  
“I’m supposed to be an example. How can I even lead when they don’t listen? When they don’t care to follow?”

He’s looking up at you with a face that holds frustration and misery. His shirt hangs loosely around his shoulders and he’s intently concentrating on your bedsheets laid out in front of him. His breathing levels out a little and his eyes stop squinting with disbelief, so you lay your hand on his neck and wait for him to look up at you.

“They’re still young,” you tell him. He’s about to protest before you put another hand over his mouth. You couldn’t do this before. He wouldn’t even let you touch him, like he was a burning flame and you were cold water.

“They went through different training. Everyone’s still adjusting and you have to be more lenient. You can’t always take it out on them when you see something wrong.” You tilt your head and smile softly. He tries to avoid it but he gives you a smile back, tense and controlled.

“I know,” he says. “We all work hard. Sometimes I think about my decisions and I’m not sure what I could’ve done differently but I think about the sacrifices I’ve made. I just can’t take it.”

You nod, easily sympathizing. He knows you understand. He knows that you know him too well and he’s said all of these words before. It takes him a while to get over old grudges and outbursts.

“Just keep going and do what you can for yourself. Be proud of what you’ve done. We’re a group, but you need to see the person you are without everyone else.”

“I avoid it.” He says it honestly and you’re a little surprised that he’s left his defences down without any prodding. “I can’t imagine life without everyone in this dorm and that’s why it's so easy to get frustrated with them.” He huffs out a long sigh. “I know I should be more lenient.”

He’s moved closer to you, and whether it’s conscious or not, you don’t know. 

“You’re the rock, hyung.” You try to tilt his face up and he pushes your hand away but his touch is tender. He smiles and it’s true this time, eyes closing slightly. He leans his head on your shoulder, still breathing erratically. He’s going to be bothered the entire day.

“Thanks,” he says. You think he wants to say more but he ends up falling asleep, hands in his lap and head on your hip.

 

…

 

“Hi,” he says, mouth quirked up at the corners. His face is bright in the sunlight and he’s wearing his favorite sweater. You’ve touched it so many times before and you know that it smells like him and he keeps it beside his bed to shrug on as a default.

“Hi,” you echo, and you move in to kiss him because every time you see him it’s easy to forget how shitty his attitude was last time. He leans forward and you can smell his cologne and he presses you against his neck. It’s warm and his hug is tight and comforting.

“I missed you." He says it firmly, like you’re supposed to know that it’s the real truth and he’s only driving the point home. He’s the type of person that has to say everything concisely.

“You look so good today.” You’re muttering because it’s a little embarrassing how easily you still flush around him. He laughs loudly and holds your face in his hands, shaking it a little while he smirks.

“You already have me. There’s no need for compliments,” he scoffs, but you know he appreciates it. “Hey, I hope you brought your swimming trunks. I’ve been meaning to take you out and enjoy the sunshine.” He pats your back as he pushes his sunglasses up his nose. He's frowning with one eye closed. 

“You should be taking me out regardless,” you protest and he rolls his eyes. His gaze is light though, so you’re happy to indulge him. You do that a lot.

“Fine.” He shrugs easily. He grabs your hand and intertwines his with yours casually, as if it happens often. He walks with a purpose and doesn’t look back at you with approval; he assumes that he decides on something and you’ll tell him if it’s uninteresting.

“It’s a private pool anyway, so we’ll just swim naked.” He smiles with dark intent and laughs widely, pulling you in closer. You chuckle along with him and relax your shoulders, languidly being pulled in his direction.

“Well,” you say. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?” He snorts as he watches you lick your lips.

 

…

 

You don't engage with each other on set that much, but it's because you've been too close already. He's got his duties and chemistry with other members and you're more interested in watching than participating at times. You like seeing him laugh and act silly in front of the cameras. 

Lately he's been trying to convey that he's sexy, and not everyone believes him because he acts coy, as if he's never fucked anyone into a mattress. You're not sure why people don't realize it, or why it has to be stated. They probably just don't want to give into him.

The long shoots are usually bearable, but the best part is heading home and planning how many hours of sleep you can have. It exhausts everyone and during long promotions you all stop talking to each other unless it's in front of fans and cameras. It's just too difficult at times. 

When you're all preparing for another comeback, it's easier to practice and head home and watch each other wrestle and play video games. There are a lot of movies and poorly cooked meals. It's the life you've all become accustomed to and there are many levels of happiness.

  


...


	2. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the (small amount of) smut ...and roller coaster of emotions.

The clouds open up and rain drowns the city. It’s a dark shade of grey outside and everyone’s supposed to get up at six in the morning to catch a flight. Coffee's already brewing and you’re going over your packing because it’s a longer trip than usual. The dorm is silent and the air is cold around you. 

You pad into the kitchen and think about what you want for breakfast and how you have to prioritize getting to the bathroom first. A few members take too long, either jacking off or working very hard to look decent for the paparazzi and devoted fans. You're not immune, and that's why you head off to shower as soon as you can. 

Everyone starts to get up slowly and the dorm fills up with noise within the hour. You're changed, wearing some flashy tight pants because you're hoping to have better images for internet searches. You're more serious about it than you ever admit. 

You head to the living room with wet hair and stop in front of his bedroom, silent with the door ajar. He's so indulgent with his sleep, but he's usually the last one to head to bed, always writing lyrics or reading on his phone.

"Are you up?"

You knock softly, walking in and closing the door behind you, careful of making noise. The room is dark without sunlight filtering in and there's light snoring. You easily recognize it. Kneeling beside him is difficult without stepping on his face, but you're able to shake his shoulder and tickle his sides.

"Why?" He's groggy and his voice is filled with sleep. "Why are you doing that? Come on, it's too early. Get back into bed." 

He lifts his thin sheet and beckons you into it, pulling onto your leg until you move beside him. He's so warm, skin covered with a slick sheen of sweat. He doesn't sleep naked, but he likes wearing shirts that have the sides cut out and you can already imagine the deep dips of his muscles underneath it.

"We've got a plane to catch," you tell him. He's breathing evens out again and you know he's already slipping back into his dream. 

"Hyung, seriously. We can't miss it. You're just going to end up cranky with your eyes swollen if you don't start getting ready." You don't want to chastise him right now because you're so warm, pressed against his side. You'd rather stay here, quiet with him in a world where there are less complications. 

"Five more minutes," he groans. You scowl when you realize his voice is completely awake and he's likely smirking when he pins you down and sticks his head into your armpit. He sleeps in too much, but once he's awoken, his energy is commanding and unstoppable. 

You can feel his hard cock against you and you don't know whether to laugh or be incredibly turned on so you do both. He chuckles softly and rubs against you, whining at the contact. "You've gotta help me with this," he demands. He kisses your neck and holds onto your wrist, sneaking your hand down into his shorts.

"You think you can last five minutes?" Your words get lost into his mouth, morning breath sharp and tangy. He's kissing you hungrily and your hand moves quickly, smearing precum around with your palm. He ruts against it, breath hot on your face and you're decisive when you kick off your pants and wrap both of your hands around each of your cocks, sharing the wetness in between you. He moans quietly, body stretching out to cover yours.

He's on top now, grunting quietly and sliding his dick against yours and your mouth falls open, sweat already pricking behind your ears. His hard stomach's pressed against yours and it's suffocating but he's thrusting evenly, talking about how much he wishes he could bite you.

You pull him down for a kiss, pulling at his hair while you listen to the room being filled with panting and skin slapping against skin. His hand's wrapped around yours and he knocks it away, big palm pressing the slits of your cocks together. 

"Harder," you tell him and he fists you roughly, laughing lightly as you cry out and arch your back. He's going so fast and hard that it's almost painful and you're breathing in air that's humid and full of his smell, strong and earthy.

"Ah fuck." He's got his forehead against yours and you can see his eyes, shut tight with his teeth dug into his bottom lip. His hips jerk around, and you watch his face with lidded eyes. You meet his erratic thrusting, swearing as he leans down to lick around your chest, onto your nipples.

He's uncontrollable now, and the space between you is slippery as you bring up the hand that's covered in both of your precum and you press it against his lips, watching as his stomach tightens with taut muscles. 

He groans, throaty and delicious, spurting on your chest. He thrusts against you until he's shivering with sensitivity. He's quick to open his eyes and shove his tongue in your mouth while he squeezes your cock, flicking a finger against your balls. He's got your ass in his hands when you cry out and watch as he tightens his grip and milks you dry, pulling long and slow. He licks his lips to wet them and collapses beside you.

Both of you are breathing hard, and you would be so content to cover your naked bodies with sheets but you're on a schedule and he's still in bed. "I just showered," you complain. He snickers and runs his hand on the cum that's pooling on your torso. He gets up and turns the light on, your eyes shutting and seeing red. 

"Here," he says, rubbing you down with a towel. He stands in front of you, hands on his hips, cock soft and pink. He wanders around his room, trying to find an outfit that he's already put together. He's specific about the things he wears and likes to have everything ready since he gets out of bed so late.

"I'm heading to shower because—“ he points at his body, smirking, "I really need to." He grabs a towel and you smile at the full view of his strong back and tight ass. "Sorry about getting you dirty." 

He smiles deviously, raking his eyes down your chest before changing his expression to one that's nonchalant and unaffected. The door clicks behind him and you sigh, towelling yourself down neatly before putting your clothes back on. You've got your luggage ready by your bedroom and wait against a wall, smiling as he walks by you whistling.

 

…

 

"Hyung?" You peer up at him and his eyes are trained on his notebook, full of scribbles and some of the messiest writing you've ever seen. He's been ignoring you for an hour, humming to himself and treating you like an armrest. "What." His voice is flat and he doesn't look up.

You sigh loudly, and you know you're trying to get his attention and he knows it too, so he watches you with a blank look. He's daring you to say something, but you stay quiet, sullenly opening the latest book you're reading. You've got several bookmarks in it because you like some of the quotes, and you sift through them. He's back to writing, tapping his pen against his jaw.

You sit in silence for an hour, and it's mostly comfortable because he's pressed flush against you but he's in another world, constantly striking words out or highlighting them broadly. His pencil case is balanced on your knee and he digs into it occasionally, pressing his fingers against your jeans. He's the best at playing hard to get. You're second best, and today you'll test him.

Another hour passes and he rubs at his eyes, tucking his glasses into the collar of this shirt. His face is bare and it's pale, the skin around his eyes pigmented with light brown. He yawns and tucks his notebook back into his bag. He looks at you, stretching as he rubs at your neck.

"How's the book?" He asks with a face that's mildly interested. "Is it better than the last one?"

You consider his question and nod. "It's got a better plot." He waits for you to explain further like you usually do, since you overload him with information when you have enough to say about it. He sips on some water and looks down on the pages you're flipping and he's probably bored, but you've run out of patience and meet him with the same blank gaze. 

"Good," he quips as he moves to the other side of the couch, turning his phone on and closing his eyes as he listens to music. He taps his foot along and hums, but he does it quietly enough that you know he's trying not to bother you.

You keep reading and it engrosses you. Sometimes all you can see are the words and the rest of the room is a blur, not at all as vivid as the scenes you're playing in your head. Sometimes you read books about love and they're stories that are veiled with huge metaphors that last for pages. You tire of those and go back to reading fictional accounts of historical events. It reminds you of studying, which you excelled in, and the worlds you dreamt of as a kid.

He clears his throat, and you look up out of habit. He gives you a pleasant smile, moving closer, tucking his feet underneath your thighs. He closes his eyes again, and this time his feet are tapping underneath you with a steady rhythm that keeps you further hypnotized. You get through a few chapters before he places his feet into your lap, and then that escalates to him putting his thighs onto your bent knees. You look at him and he grins sweetly, all teeth.

You're almost done reading once you've absorbed enough information to stew on before you read the book again. You like taking breaks so that the story stays fresh, but also stays on your mind as a way to engage with your imagination. His ass is pressing against your leg, and he's one movement away from laying his entire body onto your lap. He's sneaky.

"Done reading?" His phone's on the table and you're not sure how long he's been watching you but you nod anyway, holding onto his hips. "It was pretty intense." You rub your hand into your hair and twist the ends. The last chapters were gruesome.

"You looked cute," he says. He's got his head pillowed on his arms and you think he's probably trying to seduce you but you're not that easy. "So studious." He makes a serious facial expression and mocks you, breaking it when you smack him. "It's a book about bloody battles and colonization," you tell him. "I had to focus."

He scoots closer, bending his legs around you so that you can reach his face. He's so flexible, and it makes your body hurt just by looking at his contorted pose. "Tell me about it." His eyes are open and he's got his hand underneath your shirt, fingers moving from your chest to the indents above your ass. He's wiggling around, and you know that he's slowly moving into your lap.

"Well," you start off, "the story started off in the early 1900s." He groans, mouth open in exaggeration. You tug at his waistband and he smirks, knowing that you won't be able to stop talking about it now. 

"Listen." You give him a pointed look and he moves even closer, essentially covering your body with his. 

He looks into your eyes while you explain and doesn't interrupt once.

 

...

 

You know that he has a stronger personality in the sense that he's ridiculously loud, throwing his head around when he laughs hard. He has a temper fuelled by an inner chaos that you haven't fully experienced yourself. He's commanding and controlling and possessive, whether it be over his friends or family, or even food. He's very serious about what he's passionate about. 

You're more diplomatic in nature and that's why you get along with him. You ease him into his feelings instead of letting him seethe over small details that would roll off other peoples' shoulders. He allows you into his inner world where he's tiny and vulnerable and that's why it's easy for you to get burned. The closer you get, the hotter the fire is.

He gets caught up in his own shit. People have let him get away with it for so long because it's hard to stop him but he's become strict, not fear inducing. You know that you were tied in first place with him when you both auditioned. You're just as worthy, you work just as hard and you've put in the same time. Both of you are on the same playing field but he happens to think that he's always got the ball. You watch him and see the complexities. He's fascinating.

 

...


	3. 03

The new dorm you're all staying in is more private and has thicker walls but is smaller in size. It's a good change because you grew tired of the clothes strewn around and the bickering over personal space. When you're all overseas, everyone gets focused on eating as much ice cream as they can and sightseeing when you're all afforded a day off. It's a different pace and you've learned to like change.

The luggage is haphazardly rolled into the living room and everyone's jumping around getting used to the new surroundings. The commotion picks up quickly since everyone's tired from the paparazzi at the airport and the long plane ride. The roommates are being called out and he pulls you close, firmly stating that you're both rooming together. No one really argues because he's not the most easygoing roommate and they're willing to let you suffer. You're looking forward to it.

"I'll get this for you," he says, picking up your bags and rolling your luggage along. He's got his hands full but you follow behind him, smiling at his messy hair and crinkled shirt. 

The room's a decent size and there are some thin mattresses in the corner. He's quick to get everything stacked up in a corner, nice and neat. He lays down mats and layers them, unfolding the bedsheets and putting pillows into covers.

"Huh." You move towards him and watch his muscles flexing with his movements. "Just one mattress?" 

He looks up at you, eyebrows raised into freshly dyed hair. "Did you expect something else?" He's genuine in his questioning. He stands with his hands on his hips, squaring his body towards yours. 

"No," you tell him. You're aching for a hot shower. "I like it that way." You smile and he can tell it's not innocent. 

He grins, stretching his arms above his head and purposefully revealing a strip of lean, pale skin. Your eyes zoom in on the lines of smooth muscle and sharp bones. He smirks. You feign indifference and undo your belt, shucking off your jeans and scratching at your hip. He watches you and he recognizes your boxers, has seen them on the floor too many times to count. His eyes are hungry, if not a little hazy with the lack of sleep.

"I'm going to take a shower." You make a big deal of stripping out of your shirt and sauntering over to your luggage, trying to pull out some clean clothes and a big towel. He moves up behind you quickly, touching your neck and rolling his hips against your ass. He's got his fingers in your waistband when you turn around, lips parted open. 

"I'll be back." You leave him in the middle of the room and he's frustrated, nostrils flared and eyes squinting. He reaches out for you and you dodge it, opening the door before he can tempt you. 

"You fucking tease," he growls. He's persistent and moves towards the door, making you yelp and laugh. He watches as you walk away, looking back at him to stick your tongue out before ducking into the empty bathroom. You hear him shout and you cover your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh that comes out. It's a game you're both good at playing.

 

 

...

 

 

There are a lot of promotional events you have to do and everyone's so busy that the days start and end as a blur. You get emotional, feeling so happy and so overwhelmed in the span of a few hours. It's a rollercoaster—you see so many people and it influences your energy, stimulating your passion even further. 

You look at him sometimes, bumping shoulders and posing for photos like you're only old friends that have remained close. You used to be a duo, and now you're in a large group of personalities that differ but are running hard towards the same goal. It's changed the dynamics because now, you both practice discretion. You both enjoy sneaking around.

He's incredibly secretive in general so he's naturally interested in protecting his personal life, but your senses are heightened when you're both alone and the shared room is a sanctuary away from roving eyes. You really get off on it. He likes knowing that.

 

 

...

 

 

He's annoying hilarious sometimes, just breaking out into impressions of animals which he always pairs with his grandpa voice. He uses his grandpa voice with everything. He comments on shows that you watch together, pausing scenes to replay them using his face and body and all you can do is indulge him because he blocks the screen and demands attention. 

Sometimes he likes to pretend to gossip, acting like a teenage girl who knows all of the latest dances. The thing is, he does. He's gifted at performing and can be shy about how sexual his dancing can get but any time you're alone with each other, he's grinding on floors and windows to make you laugh. 

He's got his teeth popping out of his mouth, trying to look like an alligator and you chuckle lightly, but you're not really in the moment. He's been joking non-stop and it's been a real crowd pleaser but you're tired at the end of the day. It's been a really good day—the best thing is to be exhausted from laughing and joking around all day. 

You just need some down time. You're introverted and regardless of your eyes creasing, it's still a pervasive part of your personality.

He's looking up at you, smiling with his cheeks raised and you feel fondness bloom in your chest, deep and warm. You think about all of the songs you sing and you see them in his face. The lyrics are always more meaningful when you're able to apply them to something, to someone in your life. For years, it's been him. 

"Come here." He motions for you to sit beside him on the floor. He's dressed in house clothes that are shabby and soft. You feel slight stubble as he rubs his face against your neck. "Let me take care of you." His eyes are trained on your face, gaze unwavering. 

You answer with a short nod and he barks out a laugh, always amused when you're quiet and it's only his voice echoing in the room. He's slow to kiss you, moving his hands to patches of skin that his lips follow. He cradles your face with a gentle touch and you sink into the kiss, appreciating the languid movements of your tongues meeting. He tastes like tea and chocolate.

"I'll try not to rush," he says, standing to peel his tight shirt off of his body. He brings you up to stand in front of him and he's in his boxers, cock half-hard as he moves towards you. He lets his fingertips linger as he strips you of your clothes, excruciating slow. "I want this to last." 

His palms are hot against your skin, hands gripping your hips tightly. He pushes you against the wall and you gasp at the cold surface touching your back, arching at the sensation. He snickers.

"You were so good today." He jacks your cock to full hardness, twisting and pulling. "You were so cute today." He kneels down and licks the skin stretched over your hipbones, sucking as he moves lower. 

"You're always cute." He bites the inside of your thigh and nudges his nose against it, encouraging you to part your legs further. "I should remember that." 

He wraps his mouth around you and covers the slit of your cock with a flattened tongue, neatly moving his hand up and down, sneaking around to push against your lower back and pull you closer.

"I should be more honest," he mumbles and it vibrates against your dick, making you moan and push at his hair. "I should tell you all of these things so you know—“ he licks your balls “—that I appreciate you putting up with me." His face is flushed, lips red and slick. 

He stops talking and you're suddenly the one making all of the noise as he pushes his mouth further along your shaft and is intently looking at your stomach like it's a goal for him to meet. His eyes shut and you can see the shape of his tongue moving against his cheek. You groan, one hand in his hair and the other behind his ear, rubbing circles. His earrings are sharp against your fingers, poking against your palm.

He's got your cock deep, and you force it into his huge mouth easily. He's bobbing his head and sucking tightly and you watch him with lidded eyes. His features are so sharp when he's in between your legs. His cheeks hollow out and his strong neck is craned so that he can move his mouth lower, slick and hot. 

His hair is messy and falling around his face, reminding you of a year earlier when you were younger and less caught up in this, each other, your bodies. He makes slurping sounds and hums like he's wrapped up in the way you taste, the weight of your cock in his mouth.

"Deeper." You're trying to sound commanding but he's good with his mouth and always has been so your words come out choked and he smiles before he complies. "Please." 

Sometimes he's demanding during sex but on other, sweeter days, he's on his knees, hands holding you down so he can focus. He likes being clothed when he gives you blow jobs but you prefer him to be naked, watching as his cock rises while his face is against your stomach. 

You look down at his face and he's meeting your eyes, cheeks hollowed obscenely and eyebrows slightly furrowed from the stretch in his throat.

He spreads your ass cheeks and presses his knuckles against your hole, coupling it with the strong grip of his mouth. Your balls tighten and the pressure against your ass cheeks pulls you over the edge. You come hard and fast and he chokes, eyes rimmed with wetness. You pull him towards you and he's coughing so you rub at his back because you think he just did you a favor and you're not that impolite. 

You're not sure if favors are supposed to be this good and this frequent. He hacks a couple more times but then he's laughing hard, snickering with his head tilted sideways. His eyes are the smallest they can get and his mouth is set wide, tongue still holding a bitter taste. 

He lifts himself up on shaky legs and hops onto the mattress happily and spreads out, limbs splayed. He can stay hard for a long time and you revel in it, watching as the tension in his body dissipates and he's only filled with lust and heat. 

He lays out on the sheets like he's trying to catch some sun and you kneel beside him with no intent to disrupt his bliss. He's so beautiful when his smile isn't laced with edges. 

He makes room for you beside him, looking at you expectantly. You're bone tired, and you ache to be surrounded by his scent, warmly engulfed by his arms and legs. He wraps around you like he's your bedsheets and you can feel his entire body behind yours, hard and smooth. His lips are behind your ear.

"I love you," he says. He doesn't say anything else, but he moves your hand to wrap around his thigh. He makes you come again before he even gets to himself.

 

 

...

 

 

 

"Good work out there today." He says it to everyone, clapping shoulders and smiling softly. The dressing room is spacious and everyone heads into different directions to rub off makeup and change into their own clothes. 

You pat the sweat around your face and chug down some water, body thrumming with excess adrenaline. You're rummaging through your bag to find some face wipes that don't sting your skin when he clears his throat, stretching his legs across from you. 

You look up but he's got his face down between his legs, hands flat on the ground. He knows how to get your attention and it's obvious when he wants you to come to him.

"Fun show, huh?"

He follows the sound of your voice and gives you a tight smile, eyes barren of mirth. He's lunging now, easily holding the position while his arms stay outstretched. He's got his eyes locked on you. "Yeah, it looked like you were having a great time." He changes his position, balancing on one leg.

"You did too." You shrug off the sweater you've been sweating in, fashionably ripped at the shoulder. He watches you closely, cold eyes scanning your torso. You change in a flash, feeling uncomfortable underneath his gaze. He looks away once you look up. It's one of those days.

 

 

…

 

 

He splits away from you once you get to the dorm, heading to the kitchen to grab an armful of snacks. He's constantly eating. You sigh and choose not to give it much thought. It shouldn't be that important to you. You've known him for years and his moods blow over, though he's reticent to apologize and sometimes doesn't get around to it at all. He's banging around, pouring juice in a cup and drumming his hands on the counter.

You throw yourself onto the mattress and lay back, closing your eyes. The lights are still turned off and the darkness is a nice welcome after being under the blinding heat of stage lights. Your ears have long gotten used to the ringing from the loud music and ear pieces but the silence is muted by your thoughts. You think too much all the time, analyzing feelings that should probably stay undisturbed. Slowly, you fall asleep.

Your dreams are interrupted by his loud chewing and he's looking down at you like you're part of a display in a museum. He's considering you again, objective like he's studying you. 

You're not sure what he wants and he's still got his snapback and tight jeans on. He never changed out of his clothes so he's probably anticipating some random video shoot. He peers at you cautiously. Your eyes stay still, looking at his face for a sign that could tell you what he's thinking. 

"I don't know what I want to say to you sometimes." He's chugging his drink down loudly before he slides the cup onto your stack of books. He wipes at his mouth before hugging his knees to his chest, stoic as he sucks on his tongue, jaw tensing. 

"I'm not sure how I feel about this, and about you." He raises his eyebrows to signal that he's waiting for a response. Always impatient.

"Well." You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. Your voice comes out rough. "I don’t know what you mean." He scoffs at your response, stretching out his legs and staring at his feet. 

"I couldn't stop watching you today," he admits. He fiddles with the hem of his jeans. "I can see your face when I close my eyes, that's how much I've memorized it." 

His eyes lock on yours, intense and feline in their shape. "I can't seem to stop looking at you, and even after all of these years, I'm not tired of looking." He's still staring into your eyes.

You gulp and frown, not fully awake. The room's illuminated with artificial light that makes your eyes hurt and it seems surreal. He's in front of you and you know he's not joking because he doesn't see a point in messing around with his words. His face is neutral, like he's waiting for you to say something for him to react to. 

You hesitate, palms up like you're trying to relay something. "I... feel the same way?" You're close to shrugging and pulling a face because you can't believe how serious he is. 

You didn't expect to be on the receiving end of his feelings, or his confessions. You never thought he would fully cross the lines between friends and fuck buddies and lovers. You aren't even sure what those lines ever were. Probably the deep throating.

"Are you asking me a question?" He turns his head to the side, expression slowly turning incredulous. You roll your eyes, pushing down the sheets so you can move towards him. "No, I'm just surprised by everything you're saying." 

He smiles, but it's sarcastic. "I'm telling you for a reason." 

You nod, mouth already quirking. He sees your lips lift and you get a grin in return. "Don't be dumb," he laughs, lunging towards you and pulling you on top of him. 

"I think we've both been dumb for a long time now." You turn over and he makes a sound of pain as your elbow hits his stomach. He wrestles you onto the floor and runs his hand through his hair, eyes forever irritated with his bangs. You laugh at him, eyes closing shut as he makes a face, rubbing his forehead against yours. 

He pins you down by the shoulders and easily dodges your kick. He's holding in his laughter, nose wrinkling with the effort. "I've always known how this would turn out." 

He finally breaks and chuckles softly, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You snort because you don't believe him at all. 

"Sure hyung," you tell him. He's wiggling on top of you, moving his hips to a silent rhythm. "Whatever you say."

 

 

...

 

 

Your bucket hat is pulled low over your eyes, hiding the bags underneath them. You've been quiet all day, speaking in hushed tones even when you were prodded to say more. It's frustrating when all you want to do is be alone and you can't, because a camera demands attention or you have to fill in gaps in between jokes.

You open the door to your shared room and he's laid out on a pile of pillows, head cushioned with one arm. His glasses are perched on his nose and he looks up when he spots you, neatly sticking a bookmark in between the pages he's holding. "Hi." He's calm and his voice is soft. The bedsheets—your bedsheets?—are tangled around his legs and his toes are sticking out of them. He looks so childish. It's endearing and you move towards him, arms outstretched.  

"I had a bad day." You don't mean to but you're exaggerating your frown and he laughs, eyes glittering. He holds you in his lap and lets you nuzzle into his neck. You notice the books he's been reading and a few of them are stacked beside his hip. They're yours, and they're half-way read. He's even kept your bookmarks in. "Those are mine," you point out. He nods against your head and you feel his chin digging into your hair.  

"I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." He hides his laugh with a scoff and you know he's about to be flippant just to hide his curiosity. "It was just droning on, soldiers and robots. Utopias and soliloquies about youth."  

You smirk because it's evident he's actually read them and that he's trying. "So you liked them," you say. He leans back confidently, smiling as he tips your hat off of your head. Your hair is ruffled and messy. 

"Maybe." He shrugs and laughs, a telltale sign that he likes the teasing. "I just wanted to have something to talk about."

You sit cross-legged beside him, pants riding up your thighs. He runs his finger down the seams. "I'm tired," you tell him. "I just want to disappear."

You groan as he engulfs you, smiling ruefully. "I know," he whispers. "Do it with me."

Your cheeks raise up with your eyes crinkling and you burst into laughter as he shrieks sharply, leaning back onto his arms. "You're so cheesy." 

You laugh with your hand in front of your mouth and he watches you, pleased. His hair is sticking up and his shirt is askew—he looks so beautiful, so soft and pliant. He's grabbing onto his knees, fingers tapping out a melody while he hums along.

You watch him for a long time and his eyes flash to yours once in a while, like he's checking to see if you're still smiling. He keeps humming and your mind wanders elsewhere, heading to a place where you aren't thinking about anything in particular. He hums and you sway and he grins every time you look over at him.

 

 

…

 

 

"So." His hair's styled, pushed up and off of his face. His eyes are lined, smoky at the outer edges. You watch him and he circles around you like a vulture, predatory when it's unnecessary. He sticks his hands into his pockets and smiles at you, cheekbones cutting a dark shadow across his cheeks. "We're going to go on a date." He nods at himself like he was building the moment up, or that he was worried how to approach you. 

You quirk an eyebrow up. "Are you asking me a question?" You're giggling, using his own lines against him and he notices, pushing at your shoulders before crushing you into a quick hug. "Yeah, I'm asking. C'mon. Do you wanna go on a date? I'm not sure if it's something you're even interested in but I'll let you pick the place if you want." He shrugs and looks down at his leather boots, mouth flat.  

"Wow, thanks." You smile at him, lips pursing thoughtfully. "Okay. But you're mine for the entire day and you can't complain at anything."  

His face instantly drops and he scowls, giving you a look that's both slinky and suspicious. "That's ridiculous. I barely complain." He frowns like he's affronted, but you move closer towards him and he relaxes. His tie is undone and you do it up for him, fingers precise in their motions. He watches you, chin scrunched down. 

"I know. You've changed a lot, huh?" You tilt your head and smile at him affectionately, letting your hands roam down his arms. "I'll be there." 

"Good." He nods again, affirmative, and shuffles around like he hasn't planned this far. You watch him and you can tell he's nervous. He throws a smirk over his shoulder as he walks off, blazer hanging off of his shoulders. He disappears around the hallway and you smile to yourself, already grabbing your phone to look up restaurant reviews.

You’ve got pages and pages of them saved. 

 

 

...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end!
> 
> My tumblr is [here](https://sweetsheetsweat.tumblr.com) for prompts/requests.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


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